Page 50 of Heart of the Summer Queen

‘Less your Summer Queen thaws you free.

“This is the exact incantation Isidore used to cast Elaric’s curse?” I ask.

The witch sets down her bowl onto the nearest table. “It is.”

“Only Elaric’s Summer Queen is mentioned. There’s nothing explicitly related to true love.”

“You still doubt that the curse requires true love to be broken?” Belinda asks with a laugh. “If it does not refer to true love, what else can it be? Unless Isidore intended for the curse to be broken by him cutting out your heart and eating it.”

I recoil. Belinda cackles.

Elaric’s fists tighten, knuckles straining. Though he says nothing to Belinda’s comment, his reaction doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Not fond of that suggestion, are we?” she taunts.

While Elaric’s expression is thunderous, he holds his tongue. Offending her here would be foolish.

“If the cure is true love,” I say, breaking the silence, “is there any way to bypass it?”

“Worried about finding it?” Belinda asks, head tilting as she regards me.

My shoulders tense. Everything between Elaric and me is so complicated, and I’m not prepared to explain to her how I believed he murdered my sister, how I tried twice to assassinate him—including on our wedding night.

Fortunately, Belinda continues, sparing us from having to answer.

“You’re right to worry,” she says. “True love is a fickle beast. Some attain it immediately, while for others it never develops, even after decades.”

I swallow. What she says voices my greatest fear. That no matter how long we spend together, that even on my deathbed, Elaric’s curse will endure.

Dalia’s face flashes through my mind. My chest grows heavy.

“I read that not all curses are broken,” I say, voice quiet compared to the crackling fire. “And that a witch must simply provide a possibility for a curse to be broken.”

“Indeed. While your immunity to his power proves you are his fated Summer Queen, this does not guarantee you’ll ever end the curse. For instance, if you died tomorrow, there’d be no one left to break it and it would last forever. Or perhaps you’ll live long, yet never cultivate true love.”

My nails bite my palms. All we’ve gained is confirmation of my suspicions. The only thing we can do now is return home and hope love one day blooms between us. But it seems so foolish. How can such true love thrive in soil so toxic?

“What if I killed Isidore?” My bold question reverberates through the room. “Would that break his curse?”

My suggestion is terrifying—I don’t know if Belinda has any ties to Isidore. At least she aided in killing Seraphina, her sister. But three hundred years have passed, and perhaps the two have long reconciled.

“Adara...” Elaric says before Belinda can reply. His voice is low, a warning.

I ignore him. My eyes stay on Belinda.

“Well?” I press.

Belinda is quiet, stroking her chin. “You would never defeat her. It would be a pitiful fight, a mouse battling a lion.”

Elaric bolts up. “Three hundred years ago I came here with that same intention, and you said it would not work.”

“It would not,” she says, unbothered by the sharpness in his words. “As I explained then, you’re bound by her curse and cannot kill her. Your sword would never pierce her heart, never draw blood. Nor could you tell anyone to aid you. Even if they puzzled out the curse as your queen has, they could never reach Isidore without succumbing to her magic.”

Elaric’s magic is the same as Isidore’s—an extension of hers. I too likely won’t succumb to it. But that doesn’t mean she won’t be able to kill me. Elaric has used his power to bind me with chains, and I couldn’t break free. In the same way, I won’t be immune to Isidore driving a blade through my chest. My only advantage over any other mortal is she can’t freeze my whole body with a mere thought.

With a reluctant sigh, Elaric settles back beside me on the couch.

I turn back to Belinda. “Three centuries ago, you gave Elaric an enchanted sword to kill Seraphina.”

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